Futuro Perfecto

Russian Roulette

There two of us here.
Yourself.
And me.
My turn.
Your turn.
Click and click.
One sooner.
The other later.
What is mirrored in the falling shards?
What ends?
A pure whiteness surrounds us howling:
"The old hag downstairs wants to to go to sleep."
She´s right.
Surrely, we can find a simpler way of loving.
Efi Pirpasou, Russian Roulette (translated by k. Matsoukas).